


As the wind blows by

by Krumben (orphan_account)



Category: Blur
Genre: Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-06
Updated: 2014-07-06
Packaged: 2018-02-07 18:04:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1908600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Krumben
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not every lonely night ends in disaster.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As the wind blows by

It was a quiet night after a quiet day. Soft lights shimmered through the window from nightly activities such as stars that danced across the sky and street lights that gently washed over passing cars. Graham stood next to the curtain. He looked out through the cold glass and wondered where those poor cars were heading this late, or early, however you chose to look at 12AM. The guitarist felt tired but restless after having done nothing all day. The rest of his band had been riding around town and answered questions from people behind cameras and microphones. Graham had stayed in the hotel room, same hotel room as he was in now, and done nothing. He'd had a few drinks by himself and scribbled on some receipts, but that was all. Before the band had left, he'd complained about a horrible stomach ache, but in reality it wasn't really his stomach that had ached. Dave had looked at him with sympathy, Alex had offered him a painkiller, and Damon had ran to the car which had been waiting for them. Now that he thought about it, that Damon rushing away from him without a word had actually made his stomach hurt slightly.  
The dark haired raised his hand to his face to take off his glasses. He put them on the windowsill. Now the horizon was blurred for him, and so were his thoughts about Damon. Just at that moment there was a knock on the door. He did not bother to put his glasses back on since he didn't need them to see who it was. With slight interest he dragged himself to the door and opened it enough to stick his nose out.  
"Yes?" he mumbled in a raspy voice that probably was an effect from him being very tired.  
"Let me in," he heard Damon's voice slur from the other side of the door. In fright Graham yanked his nose back inside and closed the door in a hurry. But it quickly opened again by a drunk Albarn.   
"Getting the door shut in my face by my best friend, what sort of mate are you, huh?" he chuckled. But Graham's ears didn't really take in what Damon had just said, simply because of the fact that his friend wasn't wearing a shirt. That was really distracting for a heterosexual man like himself.  
"Why are you half naked?" Graham asked, raising his eyebrows so that were similiar to Paul McCartney's. Damon looked down at his hairy chest.  
"Somebody poured champagne over me," said Damon and took out a soggy shirt that he had clumsily hidden in the back of his trousers. "I think it was Alex," he murmured afterwards in his deep voice.  
Graham laughed softly and pushed his hands deep down the pockets of his jeans. He looked up at his friend and met the gaze of two drunken eyes. The two boys stared at each other for quite a while, Graham taking in every detail of Damon. His anatomy, his skin, his ears, nose, mouth. How his hair was almost dry and stuck to his forehead, how his restless blue eyes began to wander over the room before finally landing on Graham again. And after that Graham had discovered all this, he squinted his eyes and desperately tried to count the hairs on Damon's chest. But the blonde sighed deeply and decided to pounce down on the small bed that would belong to the guitarist for a night or two.  
"I'd just gotten to fifty," Graham spoke quietly, somewhat irritated.  
"Fifty what?" Damon said amused.  
"Nothing."  
Graham sat down on the bed with him, at the edge in order to avoid any contact. It made him remember how Damon had avoided him earlier that day. The pain in his stomach came back as quickly as it had disappeared. For a long time they sat in silence. Damon had shut his eyes some time ago and seemed to be asleep. Graham was staring out the window again, this time from the edge of the bed. The wind had started to beat furiously against the glass, and it angered him. If the wind was going to be angry, then he wanted to be angry aswell.  
"Why did you avoid me?" Graham murmured under his breath.  
"What?" Damon slurred, half asleep.  
"This morning. When I told you that I had a stomach ache and didn't feel like going. You ran away." Graham raised his voice a little. The wind had started to whip more violently against the window. And then Damon laughed, completely out of order from how the wind felt.  
"We were in a hurry, of course I had to run!" He sounded like there wasn't a problem in the world, and Graham began to wonder if it could actually be so. His eyes itched so he wanted itch back, but instead he laughed shortly and met the singers gaze. They stared at each other once more and Graham decided to crawl over Damon's legs and slide into his arms. He put his head on the hairy chest and his large hands found some curls of hair on top of the head as well.  
"Good night," Damon yawned and put his arms around the brunette. They lied there, breathing heavily, tired and without a problem in the world. The next morning Damon would have a small headache that he could drown with some more champagne. The moon would be replaced by the sun, and street lights would be completely unnecessary in the daylight. But the view from the window would still be the same for the guitarist.


End file.
